Bottle of Stars
by jennii.b
Summary: A lifetime of ripples from the first wizarding war that lasts until the second... Minerva McGonagall meets the needs of her charges near and far and all beloved. None, however, more beloved than her own precious niece, who grows and blooms under the tutelage of Hogwarts as well as the friends she makes there.
1. Chapter 1: Charlie Fan

_**Chapter 1: Charlie Weasley's Biggest Fan**_

**.o0O0o.**

_Charleigh Gracelyn McDougal grew up as an avid Quidditch player. At a very young age she__'__d accompanied her aunt, a former Gryffindor league player herself, to a World Cup match and from then on she__'__d been quite hooked. When she was five years old she watched Charles Weasley play for the first time. His brother Bill also being on the team the first two years he played, the announcer of the period referred to Bill as __"__Weasley__"__ and Charlie by his first name. Which tickled Charleigh Grace to no end. She so idolized the young man that her aunt was inspired to have made for her a gold sweater with a scarlet __"__C__"__ emblazoned upon it__…__ with repeats made as the sweater either wore out or was outgrown. By the age of 10 she was practically insufferable in her obsessions over the game, mostly her vocal and quite competitive support of Hogwart__'__s Gryffindor team as well as World League Ireland (probably in honor of her father and much to the Scottish side of the family__'__s dismay) , and the professional Holyhead Harpies. _

_Gryffindor would always have her first love, though__…_

Charleigh Grace practically vibrated as she climbed the stone staircase beside her aunt. It had been quite miserable these last weeks- - as it often is in England- - and she'd fretted over the weather conditions. A chest cold had plagued her (or rather, plagued her mum, since she was loathe to let any physical ailment slow her down) since Halloween and with cold, heavy weather forecast it had been doubtful that her mother would let her go with her aunt. But fate had intervened and the day dawned clear and bright. The sky looked as though it had been drawn by a toddler- - quite an obnoxious blue with big, fluffy, white clouds. She clutched tightly to her aunt's hand lest she get lost in the shuffling crowd of youths already old enough to attend the school.

"What if I don't get sorted into Gryffindor when my time comes?"

"You'll find out in just a few months," the sharp voice replied briskly. To the casual listener it would seem a callous reply by a stern old woman. To the little girl it was the beloved tone of her favorite relative.

"But what if I _don't…_" whined Charleigh.

"Well, then," the older one replied. "I suppose I will get a scarf done up in your house colors for when you play and you'll save your Scarlet & Gold for when we play and we'll both learn to broaden ourselves a bit."

Charleigh giggled and McGonagall looked down her nose at her.

"I will _not_, however, be wearing the garb of a Slytherin, so you just make certain to tell that silly hat _that._"

McGonagall had arrived at her sister's Muggle home to find the child dressed not only in the traditional sweater, but in a little pleated brown skirt with the Gryffindor crest embroidered around the edges and the perfunctory scarf- - one of which she was wearing herself- - as well as tights in the same wide scarlet and gold stripes.

They both laughed companionably before their attention was drawn by the small cluster of rowdy boys ascending just ahead of them.

"Oi! Good show!" one exclaimed, jostling another. Both had hair as red as the stripes in their own scarves and Charleigh admired the effect, wondering if either mother or aunt would help her add a few streaks of red and perhaps yellow-gold to her own black locks before the next match.

"I wish I were a metamorphamagi," she sighed.

McGonagall looked down her nose at her. "And why is that?" she asked regally.

Charleigh pointed. "I think having red hair with gold streaks in it would be fun for the day, don't you?"

McGonagall arched a brow. "You have your mother's beautiful hair. Why would you-" she noticed the direction of the girl's finger and let out a laugh of her own. "Of course. You'd prefer to be a redhead like the Weasleys?"

"The Weasleys?" Minerva nodded. Charleigh's voice got lower. "Are those boys Weasleys? Like Charlie and Bill Weasley?"

"Quite so, those would be their younger brothers, mischief makers extraordinaire."

Charleigh's little heart did a flip just as one of the boys turned around. His face was, to her way of thinking, quite like that of her idol, but then not so much. And he smiled. And it was an artless, pleased smile, as though life had handed him all he wanted in the pleasant day and the upcoming game and chocolate bar his brother was even now breaking in half and handing to him.

"Oi! Who's this, Professor?" the boy asked, looking down at the girl just a couple of steps behind them. He was nearly eye-to-eye with the teacher, one of his favorites.

McGonagall smiled proudly. "This is my niece. Charleigh Grace, meet Fred Weasley and his brother, George Weasley…"

Fred stuck out his hand formally, as did George in his turn.

"Quite the fan, then?" the younger twin asked.

"I am. I am your brother's biggest fan ever!" Charleigh told them.

Fred nudged his brother, then winked at McGonagall. "Told you I was famous," he teased. "My fans follow me everywhere!"

George was as amused by the younger girl, who he judged to be about Ron or Ginny's age. She simply stomped her foot and crossed her arms.

"Do _you_ play as well as your brother Charlie?"

Fred shook his head. "Not yet. I aim to, though. And next year I'll be on the team. You wait and see."

Charleigh arched a brow. "What position?"

"Beater," Fred said without hesitation and with utmost confidence.

There was a moment's pause as the younger child almost visibly took in the boy's build and athletic potential. As he hadn't bothered to do up his robes over his school uniform there was no doubt that while not overly heavy, he was built thickly and muscularly enough to do the job.

"You'll do," she pronounced. It incited delighted laughter in both twins as well as their friend.

"We'll keep her, then, Professor," Fred told McGonagall, breaking his piece of candy in half and offering it to Charleigh.

The girl accepted with a smile.

"Oh!" the teacher started to object. The boys were known pranksters and she didn't want her pert little niece to end up the butt of one of their jokes. But even as she reached out to stay Charleigh's hand both boys bit into their own bars.

"Come on, then," Lee told Charleigh. "You can sit with us and we can tell you all the inside scoop on the players. Much more fun than sitting in the teacher's section!" he winked.

"Ummm," Charleigh had taken a step further than her aunt and turned her face up towards the venerable instructor. She had always enjoyed games with her outspoken relative and didn't mind being petted by the other teachers at all.

"Oh, I don't know about that-" McGonagall started.

"You come sit by us," Charleigh decided.

Wicked looks swapped between each of the boys. "All right, then," Fred decided. "Don't mind if we do!"

McGonagall sighed and allowed the infraction. The boys looked forward to the high, centre seats reserved for faculty at the meet where they'd have an even better view than in the student section. Dumbledore, in his benevolence, allowed the infiltration by the students under the prospect of the potential entertainment value of the Weasley twins; he was easily won over as he was thoroughly enamored of the young girl whom had accompanied Minerva before. Instead it was Lee Jordan who stole hearts that day, keeping up such entertaining and exuberant commentary during the first half that he was actually given the megaphone.

The end of the game saw them all standing, screaming, and leaning towards the Snitch themselves as though the added shift in gravity would help the Gryffindor seeker snatch the golden orb more easily. As his hand clasped over it, Charleigh Grace found herself atop the benches, both arms in the air, cheering the victory.

"WhOOO! And it's Gryffindor for the WIN!" she called.

Right before she overbalanced and nearly went tail over tin cups down the stands.

"I've gotcha!" Fred laughed, reaching a hand up to steady her even as her aunt's face fell and she reached out herself.

Charleigh let the air out of her lungs and pretended to swoon in relief at the final score.

"That was so close!" she moaned.

McGonagall just laughed and put out her hand to help the girl down from the bench. This was one witch who was safer on the ground.


	2. Chapter 2: McGonagall's Challenge

_**Chapter 2: McGonagall's Challenge**_

***o*O*o***

_In the evening hours during late-April 1989…_

"_Professor, I must confess that I just don't know what to do. My sister had other children… children without powers. I am loathe, however, to place her in such a home. My brothers are gone now and neither of my other nieces are suitable. You know how harshly the Catholic Church in either country deals with witchcraft. And my non-magical family is Protestant. To say nothing of her Irish-"_

"_Of course, Minerva, and with little Charliegh being so tender right now-"_

"_I should be able to resume my duties as both teacher and as your assistant at the start of the new term. Or I might reopen the cottage- - in which case I could assist you upon occasion as soon as the summer term finishes. Although not for long, for the child is extremely bright and extremely inquisitive and you and I both know the dangers of leaving such a child unattended for long periods of time-"_

"_Say no more, Minnie. She is a delight as such but I do understand your point. Tell me, do you relish reopening the cottage and living there? I had thought you rather comfortable here."_

_The witch ducked her face and when she lifted it again to meet his eyes the haughty expression was firmly fixed._

"_I will do what I must, Albus. The child needs a home and I am the only other member of our line who can give her a proper, magical upbringing. I had, in fact, intended to offer the cottage to her upon her completion of her schooling. I believe Hogsmeade is likely to suit her very well."_

"_I would agree completely. I only wondered this- - might you want to bring her here instead? She would have a home, a family here who would understand her, and no one could argue that magic is appreciated here above all else."_

"_Albus?" McGonagall gasped. "Bring her here with me next fall? Permanently?"_

_Dumbledore nodded. "I don't see why not. It wouldn't work in just any situation, but it seems silly when you and she could very easily rub on here. And I don't see why the situation can't be remedied immediately. Space could be made for her in rooms adjoining yours and she'd not lack for attention. Indeed she'd have all of us to check in on her. Certainly we can manage a ten-year-old girl's studies reasonably well, thus saving me having to find a replacement for you for the remainder of the term."_

"_But-"_

"_It would be one thing, I think, if you intended to give up teaching forever and join her in her muggle home, but the child would be arriving by train in just a few months anyway… Why not?"_

_Minerva McGonagall found herself in the rare situation of not knowing what to say. Dumbledore reached out and put his arm around her shoulders, directing her footsteps back toward her own study where he'd interrupted her hastily throwing a few things into bags to take back for the funeral._

"_I understand that being magic in a Muggle family is difficult. I believe that being non-magic in one of our families must be even harder. Do not blame your nieces and nephews for turning their backs on the wizarding world, Minerva. At least Charliegh's mother recognized her for what she was and loved her still. And allowed you considerable freedom to come and go in the child's life. She isn't starting over with strangers here. She will be quite as loved and adored as she was in her childhood home."_

"_Thank you so much, Headmaster," the distraught woman gushed._

"_Nonsense. I rather admire you for standing for her all these years. I understand that she is your youngest sister's grandchild, yes?"_

"_Yes."_

_He nodded sagely. "I will make what arrangements I can for her rooms in your absence. I trust she'll have some of her own things that she'll want in her rooms here. And things of her mother's and father's will need to be taken care of before your return?"_

_She agreed, recognizing the task that lay before her. "Some of it can be dealt with almost immediately. Some must wait for Muggle conventions. If you'll agree, I will allow her to bring most of her personal items here to my study for the time being. I'll ask Hagrid to open the cottage anyway- - it'll be ideal for storing any items of her mother and father's that she wants to keep until such time when she is old enough to decide what she wants for herself."_

"_Wise, very wise. I'll leave you now so that you can hasten your return to the poor child."_

_He turned to leave, his hands folded together at his waist and a sad expression on his face as he contemplated the happy, joyous girl he'd very much enjoyed getting to know over the years. How heartbraking that she now dealt with the tragedy of losing both her mother and her father in an automobile accident._

"_Thank you so much," McGonagall whispered through the thickness in her throat before he was out of earshot._

"_Of course," he turned. "And, Minerva?" When she looked up at him again he smiled. "There are worse things in the world than being half Irish."_

_This made her arch a brow. "And what might that be, professor?"_

_A twinkle of mischeviousness crossed his face. "Being half Scot!" he laughed as he let himself out._

**- Three Weeks Later - **

"Student out of classes? And where should you be right now, girlie? Certainly not hiding up here!"

"Shove off, Peeves," the thin voice countered.

She huddled more closely to the railing of the balcony overlooking the extensive grounds. She could see the lake and hear the geese that had landed there. She'd been seeking someplace that wouldn't erupt with noise and motion every time classes changed. Somewhere- - somewhere without walls- - where she could escape for long enough to think.

Now there was a stupid ghost hounding her.

"Students should be in class," he reminded her. "There are rules and regulations here. _Is that Filch?_ Ohhh. He'd just love to catch one of the filthy students ducking classwork this close to finals!" The ghost zoomed and swept around her, going in and out of the wall against which she rested.

"I'm not a student," she argued, turning and pressing her hands over her ears when he let off a high pitched wail. "I told you to leave me alone!"

Giving up, she ran for the door, wrenching it open to run back down the stairs. The poltergeist wouldn't enter a teacher's quarters, so she was stuck back in her rooms again. Peeves trailed behind her, taunting her for trying to escape him. When that didn't work he sent a suit of armor crashing down just in front of her, only to swing a portrait (empty of its current resident) out of the wall at her when she turned to try to go the other direction.

Which coincided nicely with the next change of classes, so there were bodies rushing the corridor as she turned to try to find a new egress. And there were faces staring at her.

Most everyone in the school knew her now, thanks in part to the fact that Dumbledore had announced Professor McGonagall's loss and the fact that he expected her students to treat her well upon her return. And warned them not to be surprised to see an extra face at the head table upon that return. Although he'd not explained the exact loss or the circumstances under which she'd be returning. Or that the face accompanying her would be that of a younger child. Several students recognized the girl from her presence at various matches. And most of the faculty had been vocally supportive of the compromise Dumbledore had suggested. Even Snape had only commented that, _"Really, what else was there to be done in the situation?"_

So now they stared, thinking that it was she who had knocked over the armour and created the ruckus.

So she ran.

Finally, down unknown corridors and both up and down flights of stairs she found quiet. Folding in on herself she buried her face in her hands and cried.

"There, now," a voice called to her. She thought it a ghost or portrait until she felt the warm body drop down to sit beside her. "It's not all that bad." An arm came around her, turning her toward's the body's shoulder.

"Ai," said the matching voice. "If an empty tin can gets tipped there's no harm and no reason for tears." He dropped to sit with his back against the wall just above them.

"I didn't do it," she sobbed against Fred's chest. George reached down to rub her arm and he awkwardly patted her back. "It was Peeves."

"Peeves, huh? Up to his normal tricks."

"You mustn't mind him. It's best all around to ignore him."

"Unless you've a bit of goods on him."

"Then you should vex him all you like!" George finished.

Charliegh sat up and wiped at her cheeks. "He wouldn't leave me be. He threatened to fetch Filch, but I'd done nothing. I tried to tell him I didn't have to be in class."

Fred nodded down at the face. He'd quite liked her when they'd met before. He'd not seen her smile much since.

"We've never had a student here who wasn't actually a student here before," he explained. "Likely he didn't believe you."

"But I'm not in uniform or robes or anything!" she objected.

George shrugged and tucked a sweaty piece of bang away from her forehead. She reminded him of their sister when Ron had confounded her. "Might as well be," he explained. Her gymslip might not be the exact grey of their sweaters, and it had a rounded neck under which she wore a pale yellow blouse with puffed sleeves, but he doubted that the ghost had taken uniform restrictions into consideration before rousing the girl. "I doubt ghosts are very fashion-conscious. He saw a girl in a grey skirt and tights and thought you'd be better off in the lower levels with your own class."

"Where were you?" Fred asked.

Charliegh shrugged. "On the balcony. Close to Ravenclaw tower, I suppose."

"McGonagall's going to flip straight out when she hears he's bothered you."

George stuck out his hand. "Do you remember me? I'm George Weasley. Charlie Weasley's brother."

"I'm Fred, if you don't remember my name it's fine. I'm the better looking twin, so that's how you can tell us apart."

Charliegh let out a little half-laugh and shook both hands. "I do remember you. We had ever so much fun that day. It's a shame the points didn't work out in the end. Slytherin truly did have a superior team this year, though. And there's always the Hufflepuff/Slytherin match coming up, so we're not totally out of the running for the cup yet."

The boys stayed with her, discussing Quidditch and then possible punishments for Peeves until she was a good bit calmer and the hallways themselves were quiet and still. They took her right up to the door to McGonagall's study before bidding her farewell. The little girl was quite the topic of conversation in their dorm after dinner that night.

**-..-..-**

At a noontime meal that weekend Fred watched Professor Snape stop beside the end of the table where Charleigh sat next to Professor McGonagall. He couldn't tell what the man said, but he saw the girl smile the small, company smile she'd used since apparently joining the school's staff. He'd written his mother and father to see if they'd share any news, but so far no response. Snape's hand patted the girl's, then he patted Professor McGonagall's shoulder as he passed her.

"Betcha she's lonely up there," Fred noted.

He didn't relate the kindness he'd just seen from the hated Potions professor.

"Hmm," George considered, following his gaze. "Probably so, although she seems to get along with all the teachers."

"Be hard to sit up there every day, though, and watch us down here."

"Having fun and laughing and all. You're quite right."

Lee was following their conversation. "Wish she could come sit with us. I liked her. Impertinent little brat."

Fred nodded. "She's tender right now, though."  
"Fred and I found her crying in a hallway t'other day."

"Wonder if she'd fancy coming up to the common room to hang out one evening."

"Might be easier to get McGonagall to agree to let her sit down here for meals, first, Freddie."

Another series of nods. "Right you are. Start small and build up."

"Next term she'll be here anyway," George mused.

"So there's really no harm in setting her up with our gang now. Yes?"

They grinned happily across the table at each other and as one jumped from their places.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley? Mr. Weasley?"

"May Charleigh come sit with us?" Fred asked.

"She might like to spend some time with some children her own age…" George suggested.

"And we'd take care of her," Fred assured the matronly teacher. He gestured toward the Gryffindor table. "We're sitting by our brothers."

"We could introduce her to Charlie," George added.

The little girl's face had borne a cautious smile until those words. Now her head jerked so that her aunt could take in her hopeful expression.

McGonagall turned to Dumbledore, who smiled kindly.

"I rather think the child would enjoy it," he said. "I've certainly no objection to her spending meals at any of the house tables or here with us- - or a mixture of them all."

"Thank you, sir," Fred enthused.

George beat him to Dumbledore and shook his hand exuberantly. "Thank you most kindly, sir!"

"C'mon, then, Charleigh Grace," Fred told her, gesturing with this fingertips.

"You can be a Gryffindor Lion for the lunch period," his brother finished.

"Behave yourself, McDougal," McGonagall warned in a quiet tone.

"Quite right, McGonagall," the little girl agreed in profound tones, nodding sharply and dropping into a quick curtsy.


	3. Chapter 3: Getting Ready

_**Chapter 3: Getting Ready**_

**0O0O0O0**

Hagrid was a godsend. Minerva McGonagall had often in his lifetime wanted to strangle him, mute him, or put him on the curb for the trash men to pick up, but she didn't know what she'd have done without him as they worked to reopen her beloved cottage.

Charleigh was as much help as a girl newly turned eleven set free in a magically enchanted cottage on the edge of the only pure-magic community in the country could be. Which, unfortunately, wasn't much. She'd adapted very well to life in the castle and now that summer holidays had arrived they'd decided to sort through as many of the boxes in the cottage as they could. Some were the professor's from her own previous lives. Some were coming in from the McDougal home in Ireland.

"Professor, I've another load if you want to come look at these," Hagrid called. "Mostly pretties and tea sets and things."

Hagrid had decided that he way to best take care of the overwhelming mess was to erect a temporary shed in the garden (although it could scarcely be called that now as it hadn't seen bloom or blossom in several years) and use it as a clearing house for that which would be unpacked or stored in the cottage versus those items that could be reboxed for long-term storage in the shed out back.

"I like pretty things!" Charleigh popped up. She appeared with dust bunnies clinging to her clothes and a smudge of dirt on her nose.

"Whatever have you been doing?" McGonagall asked, horrified.

Charleigh grinned. "The dust bunnies and I are friends now."

Hagrid laughed as the teacher opened a box and muttered to herself as she unwrapped her bone china tea set.

"Oh! I'd quite forgotten these! And they were my favorites at one time. I think I'd rather these come back with me to the castle, actually, Hagrid. They'll be just beautiful in the…"

The sharp, beautiful voice faded out for the little girl as she dug into the box that had been beneath that one. Photographs in black and white stared out at her from Muggle frames. Stationary, still figures smiled back without waving or moving round as those in the castle tended to. She took a pile and went to sit on the couch, despite being covered in filth from head to toe. She used her own skirt to dust the glass and began setting them up on the table so that they all stared back at her.

"Charleigh?"

"It's my mom," she said in a quiet voice. "I've never seen these before. We didn't have them sitting out at my house."

McGonagall quickly put down the tea cup she'd been admiring and, exchanging a worried look with Hagrid, came to sit beside the girl. She saw the picture frames that she'd packed away nearly a lifetime before.

"Who are these people with her?"

"Oh, sweet girl, I'm afraid these were taken long before your mother was ever born," she corrected her.

Charleigh frowned and looked up at her in confusion. She started to shake her head, but her aunt quickly dashed a tear from her own eye and then opened the back of one frame, removing the photograph.

Scrawled in a messy script on the back it read _Minerva Elise, Keiria Mirren , Malcolm Fraser, Robert, Jr._

"I don't understand," the little girl said, cradling the framed portrait she held a bit tighter.

"These are mine, little one. Me."

She shook her head as if denying that truth.

Minerva gently took the frame she'd chosen from the chubby little hands and held it out to examine it. "This was taken when I was probably eighteen or so." She glanced at the girl with a wicked smile. "I was something to look at, wasn't I?"

"You look like me mum." The babe didn't sound at all happy about it. "I thought you were she."

Minerva nodded. "I realize that. I'd forgotten how much we favor. I hadn't seen that face, you see, in decades and decades when she wore it. She was my sister's youngest. I was middle aged when she was born. Older as she grew to look like me. I know Keiria always said she was my double, but I didn't see it until just now."

"This is you and my gramma?"

She nodded. "Beautiful, wasn't she? I was always sharper looking…harder I suppose. She had a soft glow about her always. Piece by piece I had the better features, but all together it was she who won out in the looks department."

"But my mom looked like you. Looked just like you looked."

"Yes. You have our hair. That long, inky dark hair. Never a frizz to it, despite the damp." The older lady pulled the girl in close for a hug. "It must have been quite a shock, seeing these pictures and thinking them your mam."

The answer was a nod and a sniffle.

"We've pictures of hers here, too, somewhere. We can pull some of them out, although I must confess that I'll probably be better at pointing out the folk in my own frames than those in hers."

"I wondered where these had come from. Why she'd hidden them since I'd not seen them before."

"Oh, now, your mother wouldn't have hidden a thing from you, sweet golden baby. Nor your da as he always thought your mom to be quite the catch and was proud of everything she did." She threw in a wink. "He had good taste in girls, your dad."

Hagrid laughed as he finished unpacking the delicate china in the adjoining room. He thought the witch quite clever and witty.

"Can we take some of these back with us?" Charleigh asked as she got up to scour the rooms for boxes of her parents' photographs. "So we can have the whole family together? I'll keep them in my room so they'll be out of your way."

"I think that a grand idea. Bring some so that they can watch over you in your room and pick out a few for the mantle in the study as well. It's a fine idea indeed, Charleigh Grace."

Charleigh was happy to choose a few photographs for her new home. And if Professor McGonagall grew frustrated when the child also insisted on swapping out a few of the frames that she preferred she kept it to herself. Nearing dark, the exhausted woman sent Hagrid off with her thanks. He'd stop by the pub for a pint or two before heading back to his cottage. In the meantime she and the golden-eyed child would take a load of the things they wanted back to the castle with them. Minerva McGonagall was very much looking forward to a long, hot bath.

"Charleigh? Where are you, dear?"

"Look what else I found!"

The elder closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath before venturing down the hall. Indeed, the child had found a treasure trove. And while she wouldn't be allowed to keep the family heirloom with her, the wizened witch smiled proudly and promised it as a gift to be bestowed when the time was right.

Satisfied, a very dirty, very tired Charleigh Gracelyn cheerfully pulled on a sweater against the damp chill in the air and then hefted both of their bags onto her shoulder- - and then commenced to run, skip, and dance around her aunt on the way back to the castle.

**.oOo.**

Two weeks later they'd discuss the inheritance again.

"Well, look at this," Minerva McGonagall laughed as the owl landed at the breakfast table. They broke their fast with the rest of the staff who stayed on at Hogwarts fulltime. A glance up showed that while she'd gained the attention of the other faculty members, her niece was quiet enraptured by the large specimen who had landed next to her. The little round face ducked her head this way and that, copying the bird. She laughed and reached out to stroke the feathers.

"Aren't you a handsome birdie?" she cooed at the creature.

The thing seemed to quite agree and McGonagall was beyond certain that she saw his feathered chest puff out in pride.

"You're the grandest owl I've ever met, sir," Charleigh told him seriously. "What kind might you be?"

As the feathered beast had no way of answering, Dumbledore did so for him. "I believe that that is a common barn owl," he explained.

"Certainly not!" Charleigh looked at the man, shocked, then looked back at the wide, unblinking yellow eyes. "He called you common!"

It was, in fact, the truth. The common species flapped his wings and resettled.

"What's your name, magnificent one?" the little girl asked.

Minerva exchanged glances with Snape across the table. The potions master looked amused.

"It appears that this is one of the school owls sent out this time of year to Hogwarts students," he noted. "It probably doesn't have a name."

Charleigh dismissed the first part of his comment. "Poor baby," she cooed now. "It's a good thing you came to see us this morning." She petted his soft head feathers now and looked at her aunt.  
"Do you truly believe he's a school owl?"

A sharp nod answered her. "I do. Especially as he's brought mail for you with the school crest on the seal."  
That made Charleigh break into a delighted grin. Her excitement brought smiles to the rest of the table. Then her mouth opened and she both broke the spell and deepened it.

"Oh, good." Both hands reached out to caress the bird. "If you live here I can give you a name and then you'll have one forever." Ridiculously, the owl pranced closer to the girl. "You're so big and beautiful and strong and brave. Perhaps you'd like the name 'King' for yourself?"

'King' looked as though to bob and dip. Minerva would forever claim that the beast was simply examining the remains of Charleigh's breakfast on her plate, but Charleigh Grace would swear that he bowed in approval of the name.

"Very good, then," she declared. "King, this is Professor Snape, then Professor Dumbledore, then this is Mr. Hagrid, and Professor Sprout-"

It would be a very long time- - and three pieces of toast later- - when the owl flew off to his perch and McGonagall was able to show the child the envelope addressed to her with the Hogwarts seal on the back.

"Oh, sweet goodness!" erupted the squeal. "It's my Hogwarts letter! It just _has _to be my Hogwarts letter!"

The adults exchanged knowing looks and secretive smiles. The little girl read aloud for them excerpts from the letter that she thought would interest them. She spent a great deal of time examining the list of supplies and deciding which of the very specific items were for which classes and which instructor. They laughed at her guesses- - a great many of which were spot on- - and then the dissertation that followed on why the school ghosts should also be required to wear the uniform followed by a monologue about the various magical beasts allowed and those banned from ownership by students. Charleigh had many ideas about which of the denizens of the school's grounds would best be suited to teach (or assist) in various aspects of her future education. The newly named owl featured predominantly, as did Fawkes. That led to the little girl wondering aloud if perhaps Fawkes got lonely in Dumbledore's office with none of his own kind and if perhaps it would be suitable to arrange a play date between the phoenix and the school owls.

"We'll go shop for your things tomorrow if that suits you and your busy social calendar," Minerva told her as she buttered a last bit of toast.

"That suits me quite nicely," Charleigh agreed politely. Then she turned to Dumbledore. "Do you think there's a treat that Fawkes would like when we go? Perhaps one of the magical mice would make a nice snack?"

"My feathered friend is quite fond of lemon drops as a matter of fact," the aged wizard told the little girl.

"Lemon drops?" She feigned a shudder. "Blech. I'll bring him a chocolate frog."

Flitwick leaned forward and engaged McGonagall. "Will you take her to Ollivanders? I'm extremely interested to see what wand becomes her."

"Actually, I've planned to meet Mr. Ollivander later this week for a special consult for her," McGonagall told him.

That brought Charleigh's full attention round on the diminutive charms teacher. "I've picked out my own wand," she told him. That brought stares from round the table.

"Perhaps…" McGonagall reminded her. "We will have a professional consult as we discussed. Nothing is harder than trying to force another's magic from a wand that doesn't suit you."

Charleigh just smiled broadly and without guile. "I've found very little that doesn't suit me, Aunt Min," she pronounced. "I'm a fairly agreeable…being both cheerful and adaptable. I don't think the wand would object to being my friend for one lifetime. After all, if properly cared for it might last for generation after generation. I'm just a soft ripple on the surface of the sea for it."

McGonagall smiled proudly. Sometimes the little girl disappeared completely and in her place was a witch wise beyond her years. In an uncharacteristic display of affection she pulled the small, golden child to her and pressed a kiss to the sweet temple.

"I do love you, precious girl."

"I love you, too." She hugged her and then excused herself from the table, stuffing her pockets with leftover crusts and muffins and a napkin full of rashers.

"I predict, Minerva, that here shortly a great many more school owls will have names."

McGonagall simply nodded and poured herself another cup of tea.

"She is quite unspoiled by all that has happened to her," Snape observed as he, too, swirled a dollop of milk into his tea. "You've been very good for her."

"She's been very good for me," McGonagall countered.

"She is completely her own," Hagrid noted with a wet sniffle. "It's blessed we are to simply stand by the sidelines and watch her blossom."

"Quite," McGonagall agreed. "I am grateful to all of you for countenancing her presence here. I know it is an unusual situation."

"It is a delightful situation," Poppy Pomfrey assured her friend. "Severus is quite right in saying that she is unspoilt despite her trials. She loved her parents very much and losing them like she did- - well, it doesn't bear thinking about."

Dumbledore laughed suddenly. "She's going to name all the owls, Minerva."

They all looked at him as if he'd grown three heads.

His blue eyes twinkled. "Between her budding friendship with the Weasley twins and her affinity for the unusual and the absurd she'll be very much like raising a sweet, talented Hagrid."

"God save us all," Grubby-Plank murmured.

"Not as bad as that, is it?" the gamekeeper objected.

"Not at all," Dumbledore assured him. "In fact, I quite look forward to it."

He pushed away from the table, _de facto_ indicating the end of the meal. "Mind, Minerva, don't forget our lemon drops tomorrow."

"Of course not, Headmaster," she laughed. She bobbed into a bit of a curtsy herself.

They had a delightful time shopping for the items required. McGonagall found her small McDougal to be quite shrewd and organized, taking charge of the list and grouping similar items. The child even proceeded to bargain with some of the shopkeepers as they collected the necessary items for her first year at Hogwarts. It was a welcome respite from Minerva McGonagall's normal pre-term duties at the school. And certainly working out class schedules for the first years took on a new meaning to the long-time professor as her great-niece would be attending those classes.

"I've a question, Aunt Minerva, if you've time…"

Minerva McGonagall put down the quill and scroll she'd been working with and looked up at the child. Charleigh had come back from shopping full of high spirits and excited at the prospect of joining the Hogwarts student body in the next few weeks. Since lunchtime, however, the child had repacked her trunk at least twice with much fiddling and muttering. By teatime she'd suffered a serious setback in attitude.

Now McGonagall struggled to finalize the last of her house's schedule changes before the start of the term and the child had decided she wanted to talk.

"Of course, Charleigh Grace."

"The lists for first years simply state 'work robes, black' & 'heavy cloaks, black, with silver clasp' and so forth."

"They do. And you've gotten everything on your list, and more than asked for in some cases as it will make life easier."

She watched the pretty, sweet face screw itself up sideways. She held up one of the plain robes they'd purchased that afternoon.

"They all come like that," McGonagall smiled her secret smile.

"But the ones the other children had on were faced in their house colors and bore the coat of arms."

"So they do. Bully for you for noticing, precious girl."

There was an eye roll. "What of uniforms?"

"You've the pieces required for purchase outside of the school," McGonagall explained.

"It says to label my clothes with my name. I'm using Charleigh Grace rather than Gracelyn."

"I believe _C. McDougal_ would be more appropriate."

The little girl ignored her and went to work again with the colored Sharpies she'd brought with her from home. "I'm adding a butterfly at the end as well." She showed her aunt her first set of robes.

McGonagall rolled her own eyes. "Of course you are. Well, there'll be no mistaking which belong to you, will there?"

"There were three McDougals at my old school in my class. All three girls. Are there more in my class this year?"

"It's not that uncommon a name, so the possibility exists."

"But you won't tell me?"

"Why would I?"

"Because you're keeper of the scroll. I like to watch it write names."

"So do I," McGonagall confessed.

Charleigh's face lit up. "I love when I'm feeling blue or having a difficult time being good and all of a sudden it jumps up and starts scrawling furiously. It makes me feel better to know that it's telling the birth of another magical child somewhere."

"It's writing a bit of our future," the older lady said affectionately, reaching out to run her fingertips over the ornate quill.

"We bought tons of quills of our own at the bookstore."

"Yes, you have quite the selection. One for every possible mood or assignment."

"They weren't on the list."

"Trust me, child, you'll be writing. It's a standard part of every education system known to man." With that she picked up her own and resumed her plotting, planning, and scratching. The marks and notations she made on the scroll before her made no sense whatsoever to Charleigh.

"But no uniforms."

"You'll have your robes."

"With nothing on beneath?"

"With whatever makes you happy beneath."

Charleigh held up another robe. This one had her name inscribed in a shocking pink and beneath a scrolling rendition of a Chinese dragon in various purples.

"Everyone wore uniforms last year."

"Yes. Uniforms are a traditional part of the education system in this country as well. You wore them at your old school, did you not?"

"I did. Navy gymslip, black or brown shoes, and yellow blouse. The boys wore navy trousers and yellow polo shirts. We all had navy jumpers as well."

"There you go, then, not so different."

"Except that mother and dad _bought_ mine."

"Rest your pretty head on that score, then, as your mother and father paid for your school supplies this year."

That made Charleigh smile. It was like knowing that her mum and da were still with her, still taking care of her.

"I like the Hogwarts uniforms."

"That's good, as you'll be seeing quite a bit of them here 'fore too long. For a long, long time."

"They're quite handsome as far as uniforms go."

"They are indeed."

"Where do they come from?"

"That's quite outside my realm of the operation. I've typically responsibility of a more administrative type."

Charleigh frowned ferociously. "You're going to make me beat the answer out of sweet, unsuspecting Professor Dumbledore, aren't you?"

That sent the aged instructor into titters. "Well, certainly, if you feel _my_ answers aren't clear enough, you should go and see him. He's rarely obtuse or circuitous in his speech."

The eyes narrowed then.

"So how does it happen?"

"This is Hogwarts, my love. It's magic."

.o0O0o.


	4. Chapter 4: Preadmission Testing

_**Chapter 4: Preadmission Testing**_

**_ _ . . . - - - . . . _ _**

The closer they came to the start of the new school year the busier Professor McGonagall became with her roles as Head of Gryffindor House and the even more demanding duties of Deputy Headmistress. As the summer drew to a close Charleigh continued on with her Muggle studies- - grammar and arithmetic and geography. She saw less and less of the people she'd come to rely on for entertainment and companionship. Finally she pounced her aunt when she reappeared for tea.

Charleigh poured for both of them and then sat down very primly.

"I'll be needing some Muggle bubbles, McGonagall, dear," she announced without preamble.

"And why, McDougal, my love, do you need bubbles?"

"I don't have any of my own. I never have been able to make them last. I used to go through the bottles Mum bought rather quickly."

"And this is something you've decided you need urgently?"

Charleigh nodded. "I've a deep desire to play with them over the next weeks. Professor Trelawney predicts gorgeous weather for the remainder of the summer, then torrential downpour after start of the term. So it's really now or never for the bubbles."

An elegant eyebrow arched. "Professor Trelawney, eh? And she couldn't conjure bubbles for you?"

"_Please,"_ Charleigh scoffed. "Anything Sybil Trelawney conjured would be likely to be too thin and lacking of real substance as to hold a good bubble. And I do want Squiddy to be able to play with them a bit before they pop."

"Squiddy?" Minerva McGonagall asked. She let the comment about the Divination teacher slide as the chit of a girl was expressing an opinion she held herself.

"Mmm-hmmm. Don't you think he'd like me to blow bubbles for him?"

The teacher wracked her brain. She knew of no ghost or poltergeist named anything that could be shortened to Squiddy as a nickname. She wondered if a boggart or imp had taken up residence in the castle where Charleigh could meet and befriend it.

"Not being personally acquainted with Squiddy I'd be ill advised to offer judgment on that," she decided.

Charleigh found this very wise. "I just can't think of any of my other games or things that a squid would enjoy," she complained. "They're fairly limited in range and scope. Especially as I can only wade out so far and it can only come _in_ so far. Doesn't leave much common ground."

"Are you speaking of the squid in the lake?!"  
Instead of reading the shock and horror on her guardian's face as such, Charleigh slid forward on her seat excitedly. "Is there _another_ giant squid somewhere in the castle?" she asked eagerly.

McGonagall never could quite remember how that teatime conversation had ended. To the last of her days she simply remembered the glowing look of hope on the child's face as Charleigh pondered the possibility of another massive sea monster and McGonagall considered the various ways _that_ friendship could go amiss.

Teatime with Minerva McGonagall was quite a bit different than anything Charleigh Grace had experienced at her childhood home. Like a stereotype of a maiden aunt, her aunt had beautiful tea sets, tea trays, tea carts, tea cozies, and the like. McGonagall liked a spot of tea in the afternoon in her chair by the fire where she could see out the window of her study. Charleigh adapted to the routine fairly quickly and soon took over a great many of the hostess's duties vis a vis the afternoon ritual. She even experimented a bit with blends and additives and brews, although those were infrequent as her aunt had done her experimentation several decades beforehand and was fond of her favorites.

Pouring tea one rainy Tuesday- - Sybil Trelawney's prediction of grand weather rather off course- - Charleigh sighed deeply.

"I'm a bit aflutters, Minnie, dear," she announced.

Minerva McGonagall sniffed her tea delicately. She detected no strange additives so she took a small sip. And sighed.

Charleigh smiled. "It is good, isn't it? Exactly right today."

"What has you 'aflutters' if your tea is perfect, golden baby?"

"I'm afraid of starting school, I think. Magic's always been part of me. And at home, as a child, I could think myself good at it. But here it's something else entirely."

McGonagall hid the smile that threatened to escape. Sometimes the girl was more young lady than child, but the scabbed knees and scraped palms bore evidence that girlhood play wasn't left entirely behind. And the introspective side of her charge constantly fascinated her.

"Why do you doubt you power now? Have you failed at some charm or spell?"

Charleigh shook her head. "I've honestly not attempted a great deal in the last few weeks. I know we're not to arbitrarily go around hexing mosquitos and bothersome ghouls."

"Hex all the ghouls and mosquitos you want, darling."

"Thank you."

"And, for the other, you come from a long line of witches. I have no doubt that you'll perform admirably."

"I've always been able to get help when I get stuck."

"And if you get stuck any one of us will be more than glad to help unstick you, I promise you that, Charleigh Gracelyn. It is what we _do_. It is our _calling._"

"The other children won't have parents or aunts or special friends here. It wouldn't be fair for me to come to you when I need help. You're the smartest one here. And you're mine. I don't want any accusations of favoritism."

"I assure you, child, that you'll receive no favoritism from me in my classes. I can speak for most of us- - you're on your own with Hagrid and Pamona and Severus- - but equality is of supreme importance to most of us."

"Will I stay here?"

"Most certainly not. You'll be sorted according to the tradition and you'll join your housemates in your dormitory."

"I'd like to be Gryffindor."

"I'm not the one who makes that decision."

"Hagrid says it's a hat. Like a crystal ball, but an old hat. And it sings."  
McGonagall heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. "You should feel terrible about conning information out of Hagrid."

Charleigh lacked any look of chagrin whatsoever.

"I just want to understand how things will work. I'm sure other children- - with two magical parents- - are getting advice and insider knowledge from their mums and dads. Why shouldn't I seek the same from mine?"

Here she fluttered her eyelashes in coquettish exaggeration. McGonagall couldn't hold back the delighted laughter.

"Sweet girl, I promise you that I have you well in hand. You've everything you need to start the term. In both talent and tools. I have no doubt that you will enjoy yourself as a student here. And I've no doubt that you will acquit yourself well as a McDougal. Your father would be proud to see you succeed. He loved you and believed in you. I suggest you borrow a bit of that and trust in yourself a bit more."

Charleigh couldn't answer. Her throat was suddenly hot and close and rather full.

"Besides, we'll see each other often. I thought you might continue to have tea with me on weekends and holidays. You may not be sleeping in that chamber there, but it will always be there for you if you need home. And you'll make even more friends than you did last year. There'll be hardly a quiet moment for you to fill with worry."

Charleigh nodded, still worried about bursting into tears should she attempt to speak.

"Come here, silly," McGonagall decided. She put her tea down. "I think both of us deserve a good cry for how well we've handled everything, don't you?"

Charleigh flew into the outstretched arms and curled into the thin lap. She buried her face in her aunt's black hair and sobbed while she was petted.

"Trust me, Charleigh Grace, we have been running this school for a long while and done a fairly good job with it. You let us worry about what the students will feed their cats and where the house elves sleep and you just enjoy yourself for a while, hmmm?"

Charleigh nodded. "I just like to know everything's taken care of…"

She sat back a bit and McGonagall wiped the tears from the tan little face. The little girl smelled of lavender shampoo and sunshine.

"It's my favorite thing about you," she confessed, clutching the little body tight again.


	5. Chapter 5: Not the Same

_**Chapter Five: Things That Might Not Happen Again**_

**0XO0OX0XO0OX0**

"I've found the most interesting book!"

"Oh, gods," Minerva McGonagall moaned. "What book?"

"Things That Only Happened Once, A Compilation of Hogwarts Hijinks."

Minerva's eyes grew large. She tilted her head and Charleigh obligingly flipped the book around so that she might read the title more easily.

"You shouldn't be allowed to roam the library freely," the witch decided. "Why not a nice fairy tale or history?"

"This is a history of sorts. The best one. Look! There are blank pages. It's unfinished. Different Headmasters have added their favorite stories of unexplained or unusual happenings from the school's earliest days on."

"That's terrifying," McGonagall professed.

"Nope. Most of these are funny anecdotes or trivia-type entries. None of the blood and guts tales one might expect. It thought there might be information on Peeves that I could use against him in the library."

"You quite hate him, don't you?"

"I do. And look what boon it got me- - I found this book!"

McGonagall had to smile at that. The child was an optimist through and through. She even made a bitter enmity with a spirit of mischief a thing of inspiration and positivity.

Charleigh was still talking, so she tuned back in. "And so that was the first and only time. And there's a story about a unicorn being born on a table in the great hall. His name was GRYSLYRAVHUF after all the founders. And he seemed to like boys and girls equally- - which is unusual for unicorns. AND the book says that once the hat let a student change tables."

"Change tables? You mean eat with friends in different houses?"

She shook her head. "_Completely_ change. Like she started off as a Hufflepuff but proved herself a Ravenclaw. So she switched. The acting deputy Headmistress distributed schedules and the trunks were delivered. But when the Hufflepuff got to her rooms her trunk wasn't in its old place. Her bed wasn't even there anymore!"

"How did she find her trunk?"

That brought a halt to the dissertation. "Do you know, I don't believe it said! How odd! But at any rate, the sorting hat was consulted. He decided she'd do better in Ravenclaw. But he told her and the faculty that it was a brave thing to embrace what you want and make it a goal. So he really wanted to put her in Gryffindor, even thought she'd chosen to be as clever as a Ravenclaw."

"It's a charming tale. One I've never heard before."

"Do you think my trunk will know where the hat puts me? I've looked at ever so many books. I think I may have some Slytherin in me and it's not a comfortable knowledge."

"I think you far more Ravenclaw than Slytherin. And more Gryffindor than most. And I'd laugh uproariously if you were sorted into Hufflepuff to learn to be meek!"

"You're really no help with this sort of thing, Aunt Minnie," she declared.

That made her aunt laugh as long and loud as she'd threatened to if the girl sorted into the Hufflepuff house.

Just a week later they repeated a version of the conversation.

"Hagrid says that the trunks of the first years are loaded separately and they remain downstairs until the sorting."

"That must be so," McGonagall agreed. She had no part in that process.

"The older students keep the same dorm until they leave school."

"Yes, you all will. The room you're assigned will be one vacated by the previous year's seventh year students. Unless there's great need you won't change rooms again. And each year after your things are unloaded from the carriages they're magicked up to the foot of your bed."

Charleigh turned and caught the woman's cheeks between her palms. Her eyes were frantic.

"That's just it, Aunt Min! My trunks are here! They're in your study! What will I do?"

The lady laughed and laughed and laughed. "We'll take them down with us when you go down for the sorting. When you know where you'll be assigned the trunk will take it upon itself to relocate. I promise."

"If I'm wearing my cloak will the house change the lining immediately?"

"I rather doubt it. I think I'd've noticed if it were instantaneous as I'm near at hand during the sorting."

"So what do you think? Magic or maybe House Elves in the night sewing furiously and silently at the foot of our beds?"

Minerva McGonagall shook her head and petted the increasingly agitated child. "You may ask either Dumbledore or one of the elves as I truly have no knowledge to share with you as to how these things happen."

A great sigh escaped the child and she slumped into the cushions at their back. "Two more secretive species I could never imagine," she complained.

"More tea?" McGonagall asked passively.

It was mere days before the start of term when the chit wandered into the Transfiguration classroom where her aunt was working.

"I could help you," she suggested, watching the older witch wave her wand at the high windows.

"You could, if it weren't _quite_ against the stated rules," she responded haughtily.

"Not yet. I've not started school yet. And I don't have to use my wand…"

Minerva McGonagall turned and stared down the eleven-year-old girl.

"No."

"Okay. I just thought I'd offer…"

"It was very kind of you to trek all the way through the castle to do so," McGonagall replied, turning back to her chore.

"Well…actually I had a question."

"You seem full of them this time of day," the ancient witch noted. "I suspect something in the tea served here clarifies some strange pathways of your brain-"

"Uhm-hm." Charleigh cleared her throat.

That tickled the taciturn Scot woman as well.

"Yes, m'dear?"

"You said the other day that the trunks are thrown into carriages and then lugged downstairs and then flown to the foot of the bed once the Sorting Hat assigns a student to a house. Yes?"

"It's very possible, although I doubt I put it quite like that."

"You did. Trust me. But Hagrid said-"

"Dear Lord, that man _is_ a chatterbox!"

Charleigh ignored this statement.

"So _he_ said that the first years come by water. He picks them up in boats. Every year."

"Yes. That's true."

"So where am I to be when? Because I could have sworn that the children come to Hogwarts by train!"

Minerva McGonagall shook her head slowly and counted to ten before answering.

"Have you seen a platform anywhere on the grounds? Of course not. The school carriages meet the Hogwarts Express, which most of the children will take in order to get to the school. Their belongings are loaded into the carriages regardless of age. Hagrid then pulls the first year students apart and brings them by way of boat, crossing the lake. The older students come in first and are seated in the Great Hall where some announcements may be made prior to your arrival. Their baggage is taken care of, as yours will be also. In the meantime the younger students arrive and we herd them, much like mouthy, terrified cattle, into the great hall at the proper time so that the sorting ceremony may commence. Then their trunks, too, are brought to the proper dormitories."

Charleigh was nearly vibrating. "You think I'm mouthy and terrified?"

"I do," McGonagall declared with much vim. "And very understandably so in the last case. And I certainly take joy in the first, so it's nothing for you to fret over."

The girl nodded grimly. "You forgot about me."

"Never in your life," her aunt assured her.

"So tell me again where I'll be?"

"I had thought you might wait in the entry hall with me for your fellow classmates to arrive. Your trunk we'll bring down early in the day so that it will be among the very first of the first years' to be delivered."

That made the child smile. She knew when her aunt was making fun.

"If you think you'd rather I could ask Hagrid if it's possible for you to ride over with him and come back in the boats with the others."

"Nope, that's fine," she said, bouncing up and pressing a quick kiss to the papery fine cheek. "It sounds like you've got a plan and everything's covered. So I'm good."

McGonagall had to sit down when the little golden tempest swept out of the room in pursuit of God only knew what knowledge or entertainment. Keeping up with a whole house full of students compared nothing to this summer spent trying to follow Charleigh Gracelyn's many and varied thoughts and whims.

"You are, indeed, good as gold, sweet child," she whispered to the empty room.


	6. Chapter 6: Sorting

_**Chapter 6: Sorting**_

**/\\/\\**

Despite her presence at the End-of-Term feast and her familiarity with the hall and Hogwarts in general, it was a very impressed Charleigh Grace McDougal who made her way into the pushing, milling queue of students lining up for the sorting. She was too nervous to even notice her great-aunt standing nearby.

"What house do you reckon you'll be in?" she heard one boy ask. She looked around, but didn't see anyone speaking to her, so she assumed he spoke to another child. Indeed, soon came the reply, "Dunno, you?"

Charleigh closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Instead of releasing it, she let it fill her cheeks and wished with all her heart that she were anywhere, anyone else. When she opened them she nearly lost her balance, tipping unexpectedly into the child before her in line.

"Oh!" she cried, reaching out to help the girl. "I'm so sorry!"

The little girl sniffled as she brushed her robes back down.

"_Ohhh_, I am sorry," Charleigh cried even more repentantly now. "Have I hurt you?"

The little girl shook her head. "No, no. Of course not. I was-"

"Bit nervous?" Charleigh guessed.

The girl nodded.

"Me, too. I've driven everyone batty begging for explanations all summer. And it's just gotten worse lately. I've lain awake all week thinking of the things no one will tell me."

"My family won't tell me anything. I've an older cousin who made fun of me when I asked her over the holiday."

Charleigh made a noise of derisive dismissal.

"My parents just told me to bide my time and to mind my patience and that I'd find out when the time was right."

"I heard a bit of 'it's the magic of Hogwarts,' myself."

"Exactly. But they don't understand. _They_'ve not left their friends and home and everything for the first time! I just don't-"

"Didn't make any friends on the train?" the girl asked.

The one before her shook her head. "I guess I'm not easy to like. I'm not funny or smart or anything and I don't know any good gossip." Here she shrugged. "I'm really shy. You're just easy to talk to I guess. I met a couple girls who were nice enough, but they seemed fast friends already. And I got separated from them on the boats and-"

"I'm Charleigh Gracelyn McDougal," she announced, sticking out her hand. "I'm going to be in Gryffindor, but no matter where you end up I'll always be your friend, okay?"

The little girl twisted her pretty pink lips and then put on a serious face. "Okay. I'm Katie Bell. Well, Katherine, really. I'll be your friend, too."

They shook hands, then turned with wide eyes when Minerva McGonagall stepped forward with her scroll. The two trembling hands met and clutched each other tightly as the quick instructions were given. Charleigh glanced behind her at the head table. She thought Snape might have given her a slight 'chin's up' type of gesture, but she couldn't be sure. She smiled back weakly just in case, though. Her friend jumped when her name was called.

"Bell, Katherine."

Charleigh's heart was in her throat when she looked into the wide eyes. "_Good luck_," she whispered as she gave the hand a squeeze.

"Gryffindor!" the hat announced almost proudly.

Both of Charleigh's hands shot into the air, just as if her new friend had scored a victory on the Quidditch Pitch, and she joined in the cheering coming from the end table. The butterflies in her stomach disappeared and she found herself wondering if perhaps they'd have brown lemonade with their feast tonight instead of pumpkin juice.

It seemed an awful long time before it was her turn.

"McDougal, Charleigh."

She seemed to shock a number of people simply by being a girl when she first plopped onto the stool. She caught the twin grins flashed at her by the Weasleys and Lee Jordan and a few of their friends.

The hat seemed both heavier and much, much lighter than it should as her aunt lifted it toward her head.

"_Are you wearing your Quidditch sweater?" _the woman hissed.

Charleigh couldn't hold back the grin as she nodded. She was pretty sure the imprecation from the woman's mouth was something like _Of course you are_, but she couldn't tell for certain as the hat itself was talking.

McGonagall saw the spine straighten and had to bite back her own smile. Finally something had made the child sit up and pay attention.

"_Need I ask?" _the hat asked inside her head. "_You'd do well anywhere- - although your blood doesn't run pure enough for Salazar Slytherin. But it's the lion for you, isn't it?"_

Charleigh hadn't even time to nod gratefully before he declared…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The little hands shot up again and the loud whoop escaped as she cheered for her own good fortune. McGonagall barely caught the hat as it slid backwards off her head. Forgetting her aunt completely, the little girl ran to her table to be embraced and patted and cheered. There she shot both fists in the air again and yelled "Gryffindor for the win!" much to the amusement of her housemates, many of whom had seen her do so at Quidditch matches and who had enjoyed her company the previous spring and summer terms when she'd come to know them.

Lee and Angelina scooted a bit.

"Here," the girl told her. "We've saved a seat for you."

"Is there room for one more?" Charleigh asked, biting her lip and looking down the table.

George nudged Fred closer to Alicia Spinnet. "We'll make room," he told her.

"Made a new friend already?" Fred asked her.

Charleigh was ignoring him, kneeling on the bench and gesturing wildly.

Katie approached shyly and stood awkwardly near them.

"Katie, this is the best table to sit with. For now. These are my friends, too. Guys, this is Katie Bell. She's nice."

"Katie, it's nice to meet you," Alicia smiled. Fred reached out and took her hand vigorously. Not to be outdone, George grabbed the other.

The introductions were interrupted as yet another student was recruited for their table. Charleigh's hands were numb by the end of the sorting. She sat as though entranced by Dumbledore's speech, then tapped the floor in a dance of gratitude when a full pitcher nearby revealed itself to the lemonade she'd desired at the start of the feast.

"The twins are after trying out for Quidditch this year," she told her friend between platters of food. "Although I know from Madam Hooch that she thinks Alicia's quite the skilled flyer and she hopes that she does well in tryouts."

"Actually, we're all after trying out this year," Angelina corrected her. "Except Lee."

Lee grinned. "They've offered me a bit of a permanent gig as announcer," he bragged. Charleigh beamed and threw her arms around him.

"That's exciting. When will tryouts be posted?" she asked. "Are they open to the public?"

George laughed and launched a roasted potato at her plate. "Will you be able to stay away even if they're not?"

She stabbed the potato. "Well, no. But I wouldn't get my new friend in trouble by dragging her along," she declared. She popped the potato in her mouth and grinned around it.

"Drag me! Drag me!" Katie exclaimed, bouncing a bit in her seat. The girl to her left kept reaching over her (and her plate) to grab platters of food, offering her bits and pieces as well. She'd been elbowed and nudged and bumped as she'd never been at a dinner in her home growing up. The girl who had crashed into her on stage and thence proclaimed lifelong friendship seemed to be dying of thirst as she drained her goblet several times during the meal and topped Katie's off each time she refilled her own. It was a totally new experience for her. And Katie found that she loved being enveloped in the chaos and laughter. Instead of feeling self-conscious and nervous because she was shy and timid there was quite the opposite response. For the first time since she'd helped her mom pack her trunk for Hogwarts she felt like she belonged. And there was joyful wonder at it.

After the meal, Dumbledore's brief explanation of some rules and regulations, and the Hogwarts song, the excited first years followed their Prefect up the stairs to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Ah! Little Charleigh McDougal. Sorted into Gryffindor are you? Well, give it a whirl, let me see you in your school robes, dear!"

Katie looked around to see who was speaking, as did a few of the others. Their prefect, who had been about to instruct them on the use of the password into Gryffindor tower and about curfews and some other business, turned to stare in disbelief at the portrait.

Charleigh blushed, but stepped out of the queue and spun as directed. She ended in a curtsy toward the portrait.

"Beautifully done," the Fat Lady gushed, her hands clasped beneath her chin. "And welcome, sweetheart."

"Thank you."

"There wasn't much doubt, though what with-"

Charleigh put her finger to her lips and leaned in to whisper something to the portrait. She'd reminded her that few knew of her relationship with the Head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall. All those watching saw, however, was that the little girl with black hair had obviously more knowledge of the castle than they did.

"If you don't mind," the boy leading them exclaimed. His sarcasm was fairly palpable.

"Of course," Charleigh murmured, skimming back over to Katie.

The boy continued with an obviously memorized and rehearsed speech. Much of it would be repeated often over the next few days as full bellies and wondering eyes were hardly apt comrades in memorizing guidelines and restrictions.

Upon proclaiming the password- - _Dragon's Breath_- - the portrait swung open and the boy gestured grandly beyond.

"I hope you enjoy your first year at Hogwarts…"


	7. Chapter 7: Gratitude

_**Chapter Seven: Gratitude**_

…**oooOOOooo…**

"Hello?" a thin voice called in the darkened room.

A quiet sigh and the sound of a shifting body was the only reply. The smaller of the two edged toward the sleeping girl and pulled the blanket that had slipped to the side over the still form. Then a small smile formed and the little one glanced again at the note in its hand.

_Tell Buddy thank you for me, please. The lemonade was delicious- just exactly what I needed tonight!_

_P.S. I would have told her myself, but she wasn't in the kitchen when I came down._

_Thank You & Love, Charleigh Grace_

The red glow of the few remaining embers in the fireplace cast just enough light on the room for a single tear to be seen coursing down the old, wrinkled face.

Returning to its task with renewed vigor, the diminutive elf set about tidying the room and re-laying the fire so that it would keep the dormitory warm through the night.

Charleigh rubbed her eyes and shifted again.

"Did you find my note?" she asked quietly when she saw the familiar shape of the draped tea towel scurrying back and forth.

"Indeed, I did, mistress," he bowed on his way past. "Terribly sweet of you, terribly sweet."

Charleigh nodded. "I don't know how she knew I'd want it. I do like the pumpkin juice, you see, but-"

The house elf came over and patted the small, golden hand. "Buddy has a fondness for you, Mistress. Loves you even more than you love her brown lemonade." He winked. "Knew you'd make it into Gryffindor as you hoped. She thought you'd like the surprise."

"I wanted to give her a hug," the little girl told him. "And show her my new robes. I've the lion crest on them now."

The elf in front of her bobbed a bit and bowed. "Fine it is…"

"What's your name?"

"Kevel. It's a nice name, isn't it?"

Charleigh nodded. "It is. It sounds magical. Like moonbeams and starlight colliding."

The elf smiled even more broadly and shook his head. "Nothing like that, mistress. Just a good name."

She smiled back at him and sat up, stretching. "Maybe more like the sound sprinkles make when they settle on perfectly whipped cream atop a sundae? Or a banister so polished you can slide down it so fast that you make no sound and you're almost dizzy when you hop off?"

Kevel nodded. "I like that, I do. Better than star dust dreams for a house elf. Silly girl," he chided as he whipped out his formidable dust cloth and attacked the mantle.

"Where was she when I went down?"

"Buddy? She probably rested. She's one of the early up, early down staff."

"You're not, though? You're a night owl?"

He nodded. "Used to work breakfast kitchen. The gracious master Dumbledore found me practicing with the silver platters one day, though, and suggested I might like a change. Wise and wonderful, he is, Master Dumbledore."

Charleigh smiled. "You didn't like cooking?"

"Like it well enough. Like eating better. But this?" He swept spindly arms out to show her his gleaming mantle. "This makes Kevel proud."

"I like that," she murmured. "I like that you're happy."

She yawned and he apparated over to her, taking her hand in his. "We're happy. You're very happy. And so tired you'll be if you don't get some rest in your bed. Go on up, now. Buddy will be up by the time I go back down and I'll pass her your note. She'll keep it, I know. You go to bed and rest now-"

The child nodded and shifted again. Instead of obeying his order to return to her bunk, she seemed to get stuck in the big, cushiony chair, and felt her eyes close. He watched the little face relax in slumber once more and laughed to himself as he finished the room and moved on to other chores. More than once he checked that the note was still tucked where it should be.

"Oi!" was the next thing she heard. "Look what's been left for the elves to clean up!"

Charleigh frowned before opening her eyes. "Better not be anything in this room!" she fussed. "They've already been in here once tonight!"

Double vision didn't clear as she blinked, so she assumed both Weasley twins were standing in front of her with their hands on their hips.

"What are you doing sleeping in the common room, Charleigh Grace?" George asked.

"The beds upstairs no good?"

She shook her head. "I wanted to talk to someone." She glanced outside, considering the light from the enchanted window. Not quite dawn.

"Who might that be?" the elder of the two asked.

"Nobody important," she huffed, getting up and folding the throw neatly over the back of the chair. "Might as well go back to bed now," she told them.

George laughed at the sight of her in the pale pink pajamas with narrow rows of tiny flowers marching up and down in even stripes and bare feet. The shirttails of the top were bunched below the waistband of the sweater she'd pulled on.

"Going to wear that jumper the rest of your life?" he asked.

She smiled, pleased. "I was happy to be sorted into Gryffindor. It was my one true worry."

Fred nodded. "Never a chance of being anything else, was there?"

She shook her head. "I wore it last night for the sorting in case I needed an edge. Thought it would help my case if the sorting hat was a Quidditch fan."

That made the boys laugh.

"Are you going back up to bed now?" she asked as innocently as she could muster.

The twins exchanged glances and then cocked their heads at her in mirror poses.

"Anxious to be rid of us?"

She shook her head too quickly and glanced at the patch of night in the window again.

"oh, no. I just-"

"Want us to leave so you can get back to whatever mischief you were waiting for in this chair here," Fred finished.

"I don't have to wait for you to leave," she huffed. "You two just go on about your business and I'll be about mine."

The boys guffawed as she stuck her nose in the air and headed up the stairs to the portrait hole.

It took no discussion at all to decide to watch where she went. They kept a careful distance back and often consulted the map they'd brought down with them for their own errand.

"What's she about now?" George whispered as they saw her cross the great hall. The miniature Charleigh paced back and forth a few times in what would appear to be a storage room behind the armor along the far corridor.

"C'mon," Fred urged him. The tiny figure had begun to blink rapidly, something he'd never seen before.

They crept in through the empty doorway and saw their friend standing rather expectantly in front of a portrait.

Fred reached out to grab her arm and swing her around.

The yell she let out was almost immediately muffled by George's hand.

"You two!" She was nearly speechless. Forget about standing there having a heart attack. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same," Fred told her. "I think it's not safe and we ought to leave."

George agreed, the map tucked in the breast pocket of his pajamas beneath a bathrobe that had seen better days. "You shouldn't be here."

Charleigh shook her head in disgust and waved dismissively . "No, _you_ shouldn't be here. I'm a welcome and invited guest."

Just then a doorway appeared, although it was barely four feet high. The arched tunnel was black as pitch and the boys could hear happy noises and the clanks and bangs of some industry beyond, though they couldn't see anything.

George couldn't help but check the map. Nothing.

Charleigh took the moment they were distracted to duck into the opening. She nearly got away, too, except Fred grabbed her hand. And George latched onto the belt of his twin's bathrobe.

"Oi! Holding out on us!" the younger twin squeaked when they stood upright again.

Charleigh ignored them, beaming at the two elves who stood nearest her.

"Good morning!" she told them.

"Good morning," each piped up cheerfully. "Up and about early?"

She nodded. "I missed my Buddy last night and wanted to thank her in person."

One of the bat-eared beings nodded so enthusiastically that he could have taken flight. "Tickled she was with your note. Put it on the board for us all to see."

The other one was a bit more quietly amused. "First time for brown lemonade at a welcoming feast," she added.

The boys watched Charleigh beam even brighter. "It's my favorite. I couldn't believe it when I saw it!"

The second elf gestured further into the domain. "Buddy's over there, watching over the egg whites and giving Reccie a talking to over curdled milk. Go on down." She looked at the two young men with her. "It's nice to see your friends, too."

Both of them nodded politely and followed Charleigh as she waded into the kitchen throngs.

Offers soon assaulted them. They were tempted by warm milk and chocolate, cinnamon toast, peanut butter and jelly muffins, leftover cakes and puddings and pies, and one industrious elf who promised a perfectly grilled steak as well as an offer to fetch a butterbeer if that's what tickled their fancy.

"Buddy!" Charleigh called over the din.

The smooth-faced house elf turned from where she surveyed her domain from atop a counter.

"Charleigh!" She hopped over heads and launched herself into the girl's arms. "You are too good, too sweet to us, Charleigh McDougal. What are we to do with you?"

The girl beamed. "I was so thrilled last night when I sat down and there was brown lemonade. I've never had it here before and had quite a taste for it."

The house elf gave others around her a knowing smile. "I made it myself with my own two hands. No magic-" There was a grumble of dissent. "Well, almost no magic."

"It was perfect."

Now the elf dipped into a curtsy. "Of course it was. We made it for our favorite mistress. Now in Gryffindor house."

She turned to the Weasley twins. "These are your friends, too? Gryffindors as well." She winked and turned away, flicking her square of linen at them. "Up to no good?"

Fred nodded eagerly. "We solemnly swear it," he promised.

"We followed Charleigh here. Didn't know where we were for a minute there. Thought we'd be in trouble," George added.

"No trouble," an elf assured them.

"You're quite welcome any time!" another called.

"What can we get for you?"

Buddy cocked her head to the side and pointed toward the ferocious looking stove. "Donuts be ready!" she ordered. Turning to the twins she narrowed her eyes.

"You three have a seat over there. Fresh donuts?"

Charleigh's mouth watered. She nodded eagerly.

"Let me fetch them from the glaze for you. Chocolate dipped or Bavarian cream filling?"

"Either," Fred assured her.

"Both," his twin added.

"Lots," they said together.

That tickled the elves around them. They found themselves ushered to a high bar with tall stools.

"Milk? Coffee? Juice?" they heard as each of the tiny kitchen denizens rushed to fulfill their wishes.

"I'd like some apple juice if there is any," Charleigh accepted.

"Bring Charleigh some of the extra-thick rashers as well," Buddy ordered. "She's a fondness for those in the morning and with all that sugar she'll need a bite of savory and something a little salty…"

A stout little elf with a two-towel-toga looked up expectantly at the twins. "You can have anything you like."

"Hmm. What about a vanilla milkshake?" Fred asked.

"Mmm! Chocolate malt for me, please, sir," George agreed.

The house elves around them launched into action.

It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.


End file.
